


Not Going by the Book

by publishthewholeofthis



Series: Love Can Tell a Million (Modern) Stories [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Cheating, F/M, Feelings Realization, Gift Giving, Instead of apologizing for being an asshole, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marvin (Falsettos) Being an Asshole, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/publishthewholeofthis/pseuds/publishthewholeofthis
Summary: Nothing's changing; that statement is true for every relationship in Marvin's life. Whizzer Brown is still only in it for the sex and the too frequent money flex. His wife Trina is always sweet and docile and perfectly plays the housewife role. Mendel Weisenbachfeld is still the worst psychiatrist in the world. Jason, well...Jason's new favorite pastime is pretending his father doesn't even exist.





	1. Homosexuals

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I've been MIA for a bit, I'm currently taking a breather with my class in Puerto Rico before we have to worry about graduation and all that jazz, so I figured I'd finally squeeze in my next installment! Here we have Marvin fucking up every relationship he has, surprising no one. Enjoy this first part!

It’s slightly warmer inside, which really isn’t saying much considering there’s dirty sludge some people call snow backed up on the sidewalks and the corners of the streets. Marvin can still feel the frigid air nipping at his heels as he creeps up the empty stairwell and senses it as it chases him down the hall of the old apartment complex. Though he likes bad weather(a not so funny man with fluffy hair claims it matches his bad personality) it only really includes rain and clouds and gray. When it gets to the point where the winter chill takes hold of his very soul enough is enough. He huffs a short sigh, and bingo, he can see the little swirls of his breath in the cheap light barely illuminating the hallway. “Jesus Christ.” 

He stops in front of his usual door, fingers instinctively itching to rub at his half-frozen nose or push back curls that had grown a little frizzy in his short excursion but for once they are still, clutching at the gift in his hands like a lifeline. It seemed like the perfect idea when he bought it, but now that he’s outside the apartment it seems like it might be too much, everything else he’s ever dropped off at this address looks trivial compared to the $230 purchase he’s holding. 

He would try to brush it off as no big deal, but he fears Whizzer would see right through it and everything would be plain as day: that Marvin cared enough to buy something for his camera, that he paid enough attention to him to notice the lingering glances he sent at a woman wearing the same bag just this past weekend, that he spent hours searching for it, coming up with a lie to tell his wife if she happened to ask where the money disappeared, sniffing out the ONA in Brooklyn and hiding it in the den out of the prying eyes of his family. He’d know, without a shadow of a doubt, of how much effort Marvin’s put into this single gift, and that is terrifying. 

But...last weekend was so  _ so  _ good; he’s never enjoyed the days surrounding Valentine’s Day as much as he did with Whizzer Brown. For Marvin, something in their relationship has shifted and maybe there’s finally something more to this thing then mindless sex; it’s almost like they’re getting closer to kinda-sorta-not-really-boyfriends. Of course, he’s still married, and Whizzer still dry-heaves at the slightest mention of monogamy, but there are feelings there somewhere. There has to be. 

Marvin exhales sharply, wincing at the feeling of cold air shooting up his nose, and carefully shuffles his gift behind his back as he lifts a free hand to the door to knock. He can hear familiar footsteps on the other side-  _ is it normal to recognize someone’s footsteps?-  _ and the stiff click of the lock before the door creaks open to reveal the tall man leaning against the frame with a smug grin on his face. ”You’re late.” 

Anything Marvin has prepared to say to him catches in his throat and practically chokes him, a predicament he’s noticed happening more often as of late. He first believed it was merely a physical reaction to how pretty Whizzer is, like the staring and fidgeting and overwhelming urge to undress him as soon as possible. Now he wonders if there’s some level of fondness involved as well. Probably. 

“Hi,” he mumbles awkwardly when he finally regains control of his voice. The hand that isn’t behind his back instinctively moves to rub along the back of his neck before he forces himself to stop, choosing instead to roll to his toes so he can reach up and plant a greeting kiss to the other man’s lips. He barely brushes Whizzer’s soft lips when he pulls back, leaving Marvin to stumble forward clumsily. “Get in here, Marv,” he says with a short laugh and a playful hand tugging on his sleeve. 

Marvin glares at him and pulls his arm back. “Don’t call me that.” He doesn’t hate the nickname really, and he’d be fine if Whizzer wasn’t mocking him with it. But this new love for shortening his name suspiciously started right after the younger man met Trina and heard her use the nickname. 

It’s salt in the wound, a painful reminder that he isn’t and can never be like Whizzer, that he has a perfect little family alibi to cover up the parts about himself that terrify him. And those are things he does not want to think about when he’s with Whizzer. It’s supposed to be hot and fun, he can worry about projecting his self-hatred onto others at a different time; he has better things to do. 

Whizzer is already back inside, biding Marvin to trail in behind him with a lewd grin and the come hither gesture.  _ Yeah, much better things to do,  _ he thinks with a mirroring smile, stepping into Whizzer’s dingy studio apartment and kicking the door behind him. 

It still smells like mildew in here, even after Marvin spent hours fixing the leaking sink, but at least it’s no longer freezing as well courtesy of the space heater he brought the second time he was invited over. The small changes are enough to make him nod smugly to himself; it seems as though he has helped Whizzer Brown a lot in the past few weeks of...whatever the hell their mess of a relationship can be called at this point. Which is good- he deserves it. In fact, if Marvin could he’d be signing the papers for a new place immediately, somewhere on a better side of town where Whizzer could have a bedroom and not have to worry about his heater breaking in the winter. It would prove what a providing maybe-a-little-but-not-at-all-boyfriend he can be when he chooses to. 

It wouldn’t work out; Trina would catch on quickly when that much money suddenly disappeared and Whizzer himself would probably shove him out the door if he so much as hinted at an idea like that. He pictures the gift he currently has hidden behind his back; it holds the same sentiment, but with more indiscretion. God, he hates being indiscrete. 

He manages to get Whizzer backed against the wall, free hand pressing near his head as he steals the kiss he rightfully deserves: nice and slow and probably a little too gentle for the other man’s liking. He reciprocates, though Marvin can practically feel him roll his eyes. “I got you something,” he announces as he pulls away, only to come back to kiss the corner of Whizzer’s mouth. 

The younger lightly pushes him back enough to peek over his shoulder with a quirk in his brow. “Did you now? You do realize it’s not a rite of passage. I’ll let you fuck me even if you don’t bring an offering.” 

Marvin’s lips curl, his face souring a little. “Of course I know that!” He snaps indignantly, taking a short step back. “I just wanted to, okay? Is that a crime?” Whizzer looks unimpressed, but Marvin shoves a brand new camera bag into his face before he can shoot off some smart-ass quip.  _ Oh please say he likes it… _

There’s a soft gasp from the other man, and Marvin glances up to take in his reaction, and can’t help the happy grin that melts onto his face. Whizzer’s jaw is hanging open in shock, perfectly shaped eyebrows almost meeting his hairline, looking as starry-eyed as a kid on Hanukkah. “Oh wow,” he practically breathes, hands inching out to gingerly touch the leather. “A Bowery? How did you- I never said anything.” He finally manages to tear his eyes away from the the bag to look at him, his eyes wide and there’s a light tinge of pink on his face and Jesus Christ Marvin could get a call telling him he’d lost his job and all his life savings and it wouldn’t even dampen his mood right now. 

Then Whizzer tangles a hand in the fabric of his collar and kisses him so sweetly he’s almost sure he’s died. When he pulls back his lips are twisted back into his smirk that is equal parts impish and hot. “Bummer you didn’t get me the camo. I’ve had my eye on that one forever.” 

“You’re a fucking liar!” Marvin snickers, still unable to wipe the toothy grin off his face. Then, a little more hesitant, he asks, “You do like it, right?”

Whizzer rolls his eyes. “What are you, stupid? I’ve wanted an O.N.A. camera bag since, like, birth. I don’t even know how you figured it out, did you swipe my diary or something?” 

“Oh shit, don’t tell me the sparkly unicorn vomit with the engravement: ‘Property of Whizzer Brown Do Not Touch’ was your diary!” 

The hand smoothing over the wrinkles in his shirt slaps him playfully. “Don’t hate on unicorns, Marvin! Just tell me how you sleuthed your way to that discovery.” 

Marvin merely shrugs. “I can’t go around spilling my secrets, how is that going to help me be your favorite?” 

“I don’t have favorites,” Whizzer’s hands are back to his collar, this time toying with the buttons as he huffs a little scoff. “You see it’s all very logical- the best fucks get priority. Lucky for you, you’re not too bad.” 

Marvin’s stomach drops like he’s taking a physical nosedive off his high and falling on his face on the hard ground below. Because it doesn’t matter if Marvin does little things to fix up his dump of an apartment, or goes out of his way to bring gifts designed to make him smile, or takes him out of town for the weekend, or catches himself thinking about him almost constantly with a dopey smile on his face, or wants to know who he is, who he’s been, and who he aspires to be. 

It’s all pointless because this thing they have is just a fucking game. It will be over before they know what hits them; Whizzer will carelessly tell him, “I’m bored with you, bye now,” and Marvin will be alone with a disappointed son and a wife he’s supposed to love and have sex with and be stuck with forever. And while he’s trapped in this life he’s shoved himself into Whizzer will be having the time of his life, not even remembering the bossy closet case he spent the better part of a few weeks with. What a great deal this is. 

Marvin swallows back the lump forming in his throat and mutters condescendingly, “I’m surprised you can keep them all straight. You don’t ever mix your men up in your pretty little head, Whizzer?” He’s not sure how he does it, but he manages to keep that telltale shake in his voice at bay, masking how hurt he is with coldly controlled anger. 

Whizzer’s anger is the exact opposite, red hot and explosive. He stops mouthing at his exposed neck and shoves him back, lips curved into a scowl. “Actually I think you’re right, Marv,” he says irritably, a firm grip on his lapels keeping Marvin at arms’ length. “I think I’ve been confusing you for someone else this whole time. Maybe that’s why I call you over so often.” 

Marvin growls and bats the hands off him, turning to collapse on the futon that barely passes as a bed. Whizzer takes a step towards him, but Marvin crosses his arms in a closed off manner and he stops, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “C’mon, don’t be like that. You started this.” 

“I’m not being like anything, I’m fine,” he protests in obvious sarcasm. “I’m used to not being anyone’s favorite. Not even Jason is my biggest fan right now, which is quite frankly ridiculous. I’m his damn father.” Marvin cringes as soon as the words fly out of his mouth. When Mendel told him he should talk about his harbored anger towards Jason’s anti-dad funk he meant to talk it out during a session, not to take it out on his apparently-just-a-fuck-buddy-why-would-he-want-to-be-your-boyfriend because he rejected him too. But...he’s already started and he knows that there is no way to stop the word vomit at this point. 

“Even if I didn’t try at all, you’d think there’d be some love there, isn’t it instinctual to love your parents at least a little bit? But no, I put in the effort, I try to reach out to him, and I get nothing! All his love goes to Trina, or to chess, or to fucking baseball, or to you!” He throws his hands up in frustration. “He met you once and he adores you. I can’t even have one decent conversation with the kid.” 

Whizzer releases a long, drawn-out sigh and plops onto the futon next to him, irritation formed between his perfectly shaped brows. “I’m so sorry, but this isn’t your damn psychiatrist appointment,” he drawls. 

Marvin glares at him and snarls a venomous, “Fuck you, Whizzer.” 

At that the other man shrugs, stretching his arms above his head to allow a sliver of tan skin to peak out between the waist of his pants and his shirt hem, lips curving into a cruel smirk when Marvin’s eyes drop. “I thought that’s why you were here, sport.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: Father with Children


	2. Father With Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin attempts to bond with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm officially done with high school! Which is great, those were the worst four years of my life...Anyway! Thank you guys for all the sweet feedback, it's been freakin' great! Here's a chapter for you all!

Nothing’s changing; that statement is true for every relationship in Marvin’s life. Whizzer Brown is still only in it for the sex and the too frequent money flex. He has no desire to truly know Marvin, refuses to let himself be known, and remains a beautiful, almost completely unattainable mystery. 

His wife Trina is always sweet and docile and perfectly plays the housewife role: picking up after him, feeding him, and somehow managing to love him. It’s sad really, part of him wants her to just grow a backbone and stop letting him walk all over her, but that part is never big enough to actively tell her to do so or make an effort to stop exploiting her. 

Mendel Weisenbachfeld is still the worst psychiatrist in the world. Marvin’s pretty sure the man doodles in his notebook instead of taking actual notes during his sessions, and everything he advises is either taken from the Internet or straight up BS. But it is nice to have someone who is more or less forced to listen to him and is obligated by law to not openly judge him for his constant array of terrible decisions. 

Jason, well...Jason’s new favorite pastime is pretending his father doesn’t even exist. And that one hurts. Every time the kid casts a disdainful look at him or goes to Trina for something he is perfectly capable and willing to help out with feels like a knife in his heart. When a lady from their synagogue pats Jason on the head and tells him how much he looks like his father, his expression is one of absolute repulsion, as if it’s a fate worse than death. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t see it.” 

Marvin almost has a meltdown in the middle of the service. He instead does what he always does: snaps at Trina for little to no reason at all, vents to Mendel, ignores anything useful the man might say, and shows up at Whizzer’s door to screw him into the futon. Of course, this causes no real solution, bringing him home late at night to sometimes bump into Jason getting water in the kitchen. 

The boy never says anything about it, he just scoffs and shuffles back to his room like he knows something. But that’s impossible, right? He’s only ten, and not Sherlock fucking Holmes; if his father says his work schedule is the thing keeping him away at night he should believe it. He’s just paranoid, there’s no way his kid is onto him.

“I think he’s onto us,” he hisses into his phone. That has to be it, why else would a kid refuse to go with his favorite parent to their routine Sunday visit to his grandmother’s? Sure, Jason said it was because he isn’t feeling good, but those coughs mysteriously vanished the second Trina walked out the door. 

“You’re probably worrying over nothing,” Whizzer says on the other line in an infuriatingly calm manner. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like going over there today, you know?” 

“But if that was the case why didn’t he just say so, huh?” Marvin snipes. “Augh! He knows something!” 

“Well, he will for sure when he overhears his dad having some shady ass conversation while his mom’s gone.” 

“Which won’t happen; he avoids being in the same room as me. You would know that if you cared enough to listen to anything I say ever.” 

“It’s kind of hard not to hear you with your constant bitching,” comes the automatic reply.

Marvin rolls his eyes. “And yet you still miss eighty-seven percent of it. Anyway, Jason’s not coming into my room any time soon, I think he’s in his room playing chess by himself or something.” 

“You know, if you had said anything else, like he’s reading by himself or playing video games by himself, I would have been like oh okay. But he’s playing chess? By himself? Good God Marv, what parenting magazine did you subscribe to? I don’t know if that’s normal.” 

“Shut up. The amount of shit you spew out of your mouth isn’t normal, but you don’t hear me mentioning it all the time.” 

Whizzer just laughs at that, a full laugh that is probably making his face scrunch up adorably.  _ Adorably? Since when is he- no, that’s an accurate word there’s nothing wrong with that.  _ Marvin tries, without success, to get the fond smile off his face and shakes his head. 

“I really wanted to see you today,” he ventures to admit, lowering his voice just in case his son is lurking in the hall. 

“Yeah, that’s nice. I’d tell you to come over after the wife comes home, but I’m going out tonight. We’ll work in something early this week, okay?” 

His heart sinks. “Mhm sure…” 

“Perfect,” Whizzer purrs, either not noticing or completely ignoring the obvious deflation in Marvin’s voice. “Go bond with your kid. I’ll see you later.” 

Marvin hangs up and tosses the phone onto the mattress, watching as it bounces and clatters to the floor before he flops down with a loud groan. He digs his palms of his hand into his eyes for a moment before glaring up at the ceiling. Go bond with your kid, yeah right. As if anything in his life is as simple as that. 

_ “Just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you,”  _ he can almost physically hear Mendel drone in his head(how  _ Mendel  _ of all people became Marvin’s mental voice of reasoning he’ll never know).  _ “Things start to get complicated at ten, but he wants to know you care. Find a common interest and use that- chess! Marvin, you love chess, you’re the one who taught him how to play. Now go to his room and play a game with him. Maybe you wouldn’t have to complain about how difficult your life is if you’d just make an effort to change it.”  _

Marvin blinks and frowns slightly, trying to figure out when Inner Mendel got so snappy.  _ “When I realized that one, I’m not getting paid to be nice to you and two, I’m not the one whose mother forced him to talk to you. That’s what the real Mendel has to deal with. Anyway, you’re stalling.”  _

“Alright! I’m going!” He huffs, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He makes the short trek from the safety of his bedroom to the hall where Jason’s closed door stands.  _ The amount of time I spend waiting outside a door hiding people who don’t give a damn.  _

He sighs slightly and knocks once- more of a warning than a courtesy- and twists the knob. “Hey, kid-” 

“Dad!” Jason immediately shouts and chucks a pillow at the still half closed door. “Just because you knock doesn’t mean you can just barge in here not even half a second later! I could have been changing!” 

Marvin swings the door open all the way and frowns. “First of all, you’re not,” he points out, gesturing to the chess set played out across the unmade bed. “Secondly, you do know I used to change your diapers, right?” 

His son shrugs and turns his eyes back to the game. “Mom changed more.” 

“Okay, what’s with that comment?” He sputters indignantly. “That was completely unnecessary, Why do you always-” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. Jason just continues to slap the pieces down along the board. 

“Look, this isn’t why I came in here,” Marvin says in a more gentle tone as he steps further into the room and sheepishly points at the game. “If you want I could pick up a side and play with you.” 

Jason doesn’t look up, silently deeming his father unworthy of a second glance. “I’ll pass.” 

“Ah okay…” Marvin tries not to sound too defeated. He awkwardly shifts his weight to his left leg. “I understand, you seem very invested in your solo game and you probably already know how it’ll end; it’d be stupid for me to join you know.” 

It’s painfully quiet for one, two, three seconds before Marvin has to run his mouth...again. “How about once you finish we can start a fresh game, huh? Or we could switch on the TV and watch a baseball game, you like baseball right? Or we could go out and grab some food, do some things in town and make a day out of it. I’m really trying here kid, but I need to know what you want.” Here he is again, sticking out his neck even though he’s sure the blade will come slicing down on top of him. At least he’s trying, right? Hell, that should be what counts. 

Jason doesn’t share the sentiment, finally jerking his head up to send him a brown-eyed glare that resembles his own far too much. “You really wanna know what I want, Dad?” He asks, small fingers tightening on the black queen in his hand until his knuckles went white. “I want you to stop feeling like you have to do this. I’m fine. I don’t need you pretending to want to spend time with me because you’re stuck with me.” 

Wow, maybe trying is completely useless and doesn’t count for shit. Is that really what Jason thinks? How much of a fuckup does he have to be to get his kid- who he believes was given to him by God as a condolence for his train wreck of a life- to think he’s just faking an interest in him? Why is it that every time he finds himself outside a door, heart dangling off his sleeve and desperate to be loved, that door gets slammed in his face. 

“Why I pretend to want to spend time with you? You’re my son!” The words come out harsher and more defensive than he meant them to be, causing Jason’s young face to harden even more before he turns back to his game. 

“Mom’s your wife, but you always pretend to like her,” he hisses quietly. He sets the queen directly in front of the white king. Checkmate. 

“Jason, I love your mother…” The words sound weak even to himself, dying on his tongue before they really can form and filling his mouth with poison. 

Jason’s done with the conversation, releasing a sigh that seems too somber for a ten year-old to be uttering. “Whatever. Just do whatever you would have done if I had gone with Mom, okay?” 

_ No can do.  _ Marvin just nods and silently leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: A Tight-Knit Family


	3. A Tight-Knit Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I had a nickel for every time Marvin is an asshole...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the late update, life has sucked recently. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I will try to get this last one out sooner. :)

Trina finally comes home somewhere around nine, which really isn’t abnormal considering her parents live upstate and she always spends the entire day with them. She’s always been like this, family oriented, close to her parents, ready to run to them to fill them in on all the shit he did wrong during the week. Still, Marvin is not above hovering in the kitchen as she comes in, swirling his glass of water and staring at her suspiciously as if she’s the one sneaking off with pretty boys. 

She stops short in the walkway for a second, blinking and unbelieving that he‘s not passed out in bed already. “Hello dear,” she greets after her shock wears off, gently treading further into the room and placing a quick kiss to his temple. Marvin grumbles irritably and wills himself to not wipe at the spot; her lips are small and wet and probably let gloss on his face. Trina just keeps talking, because God the woman rambles when she’s anxious- and she’s always anxious. “Did you boys eat the dinner I left in the fridge? Oh, I can see you did, there are plates in the sink. I’ll just wash them up real fast. Anyway, my parents say hello Marv, they wish you’d come with me sometime to see them-” 

“What have you been telling Jason?” He interrupts with another bitter swish if his water. 

Trina glances up at him from her station at the sink, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” 

Marvin huffs in annoyance and turns to face her completely. “He suddenly can’t stand me; it’s like he’s got this idea that I’m pure evil and you-” he gestures blindly at her- “are some beacon of blameless light. Now call me crazy but that sounds awfully biased.” 

“I haven’t told him anything about you.” 

“That’s bullshit, Trina!” He shouts, slamming his glass down on the counter, causing her to jump, breath trembling in her throat. “He’s not just inventing this stuff, it’s coming from somewhere! He told me today that I was pretending to want to spend time with him. Why the fuck would he think that?” 

Trina looks exhausted, a frenzied look in her eyes signaling she’s already teetering on the edge. “I don’t know, maybe it’s something he sees in you.” 

“In  _ me?  _ Right, so this is my fault. What could I possibly be doing to make him think I have no interest in him?” 

“Marvin, you’re not even here!” Her voice sounds so small, a sob breaking up from the back of her throat. “You float in and out of our home like you don’t even live here; you only stick around when you have to or it benefits you. Jason can see that, he doesn’t need anyone to point it out.” 

“Do you want to know why I’m never around?” Marvin growls out condescendingly. “Because some of us have this little thing called a job to keep us busy. You wouldn’t know since you don’t even have a real one. I’m out there working my ass off so my kid can live in a good neighborhood and have a decent upbringing and have all his needs taken care of while you sit here and make him think I don’t even care. And complain all you want about how you had to drop out of college because I got you knocked up and you needed to take care of our son, but here you are ten years later doing the same thing you’ve always done: make me carry all the weight while you sit here and cry.” 

“Well what about you, Marvin?” Trina asks with sudden boldness and just a touch of hysteria. “You told me you were done.” 

Marvin stares at her. “Done with what exactly?” 

“With the lying. With the s-sneaking out in the middle of the night to be with God knows how many women. With ignoring us- Marvin you said it was over. You said you were focusing on your family and nothing else mattered and you’re back-” 

“Do you even listen to yourself, Trina?” His own voice grows louder as well, desperation clawing at the back of his throat. He had been looking for a fight when he started this, yes, but the battle is becoming too personal, hitting too close to home. “For the last time, I’m not seeing other women! I work, sometimes I have to put in late hours or go out of town but it’s not even that often. Other than that I have appointments with my psychiatrist and every once in a while I catch up with Whizzer- who you’ve met and invited over and know for a fact is not a woman.” At this Marvin does his best to keep his nervously jittery hands at bay; the best place to hide is in plain sight after all, and it has worked so far. Besides, it’s not like he’s lying, just carefully omitting some details. 

It doesn’t do him much good, Trina’s face tells him she’s not believing a word that has come out of his mouth. Her entire demeanor crumbles as she curls in on herself, shaking her head before hiding it in her hands. Maybe a better husband would feel pity for her, would release a sigh and finally tell her: I’m sorry I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m gay and I might be falling for a man. But Marvin knows he’s not even a decent husband. He doesn’t feel guilty, just angry and put off that they can’t even have an argument without her breaking down and sobbing over something. Fighting Whizzer is so much more thrilling really. 

Marvin shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m going to bed.”  He spins around to storm out, only to freeze at the sight of the small figure at the base of the stairs. 

“Jason.” 

Behind him, Trina sniffles and murmurs, “Honey, go back to bed. Everything’s okay.” 

Marvin rolls his eyes;  _ who does she think she’s kidding?   _ “How much did you hear?” He asks instead.

Jason steps into the room, little fists shaking and tears brimming in his eyes. “Everything’s okay? Can you guys stop lying for five seconds?” He points an angry finger at Marvin. “Why does it even matter how much I’ve heard? You do this all the time and I just hate this! I hate you!” Jason roughly drags an arm across his face and dashes back upstairs as quickly as he appeared, bedroom door slamming behind him. 

Marvin feels like he can’t breathe, like all the air’s been punched out of him.  _ He hates me. Jason hates me. I made my kid hate me.  _ There’s a soft touch to his shoulder, a gentle, loving rub that nearly makes him throw up. “He doesn’t mean it, Marv,” Trina hiccups.  _ How the hell can she comfort me after everything I just said to her?  _ It makes him feel worse, like her touch is a delicate silk web that is only going to close in the trap, keep him here, and choke the life out of him. “I’m sorry I accused you, I’ll talk to Jason. He’ll come aroun-” 

Marvin jerks out from under her hand, stalking over to the front door. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me.” 

Trina dashes after him, watching with wide eyes as he throws on his coat and fumbles for his keys. For a moment he wonders if she’ll tell him to cut the crap, to demand that he stays and stops running from his problems. She opens her mouth, “When will you come back?” 

“Who cares?” Marvin bites out, flinging the door open and forcing a trembling hand into his pocket. “The point is I’m coming back.” 

He marches outside, slamming the door behind him as he stalks to his car. His heart pounds in his ears, the only thing he can hear beyond the erratic beat is his son’s words.  _ I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.  _ He’s not sure if he should scream or cry, both options sound pretty good at the moment. Except, this is a quiet neighborhood, someone just might call the cops if he starts screaming, and he’s a man. Men don’t cry. Still, he feels a constricting pull in his chest, a lump in his throat that burns to be released, and a fire flaring in his eyes. 

He rounds the driver's side door to his car, fingers shaking on the handle. He stares at his reflection shining in the streetlights through his window for about three seconds before delivering a swift kick to his front tire. “Dammit!” He hisses between clenched teeth, kicking again. Pain flares up from his foot, but he continues his frenzied attacks against the tire until his foot finally goes numb. Only then does he stop, opening his door and slipping inside before anyone can peak outside and see him. His entire body shakes, and when he presses his palms to his eyes they feel wet, but at least now his mind has finally stopped shouting at him. He pants tiredly as he slumps against his seat, rubbing the last remains of the tears from his eyes as he tries to collect himself. 

_ I should call someone _ , he decides once his thoughts return,  _ I can’t stay here.  _ He gulps another breath and pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket, glancing through his very meager options. There’s only two of them, because that’s just how life works, and one of them is his goddamn psychiatrist. Mendel would awkwardly but not unkindly let him in and offer up his guest room, but it would come with a price. “Do you need me as a psychiatrist or a friend?” He’d ask, and both answers would lead to a trap. ‘Dr. Weisenbachfeld’ would verbally poke at everything that upset him about the situation and dig for the root of it all. ‘Friend Mendel’ would probably whop him behind the head and sputter, “What were you thinking?” 

As awful as it sounds, it’s either him or Whizzer, and God knew that would just be a disaster- if he’d even answer the phone in the first place. He’s probably too busy at some flashy club, grinding up against the first guy who sent a smile at him, not even thinking about pathetic little Marvin. It’d be better to call Mendel, Whizzer would only reject him, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that. Not tonight. 

Marin punches in the number and presses the phone to his ear, trying one last time to get his breathing under control. _“Hello?”_

_ Shit, that’s not Mendel.  _ He pulls the phone away, blinking in confusion at the name Whizzer Brown on the screen. He can hear the faint pulsing of a driving beat on the other end, and he wonders how he’d even heard it ring in the first place. _“I swear to God Marvin if you butt-dialed me-”_

“H-hey Whizzer,” he finally manages, cringing at the unsteadiness of his voice. “I was just wondering if you were home, but you’re obviously not. So I’ll just go sorry for bothering you.” 

_“Wait, hold on.”_

There’s a shuffle and Whizzer’s muffled voice, _“Can you not see I’m on the phone right now? Respect that, asshole.”_ A deep mutter. Then, _“It’s none of your fucking business, go find someone else I changed my mind. Okay.”_

His voice gets louder as he addresses Marvin again. _“Don’t even say you’ll just go, Marv. What’s wrong with you? You apologized for nothing and your voice is shaking worse than an old lady’s vibrato.”_

“I don’t know…” 

_“Well, you sound just shy of a mental breakdown. Where are you?”_

“In my car. I just can’t be home right now and I know it sounds stupid but-” 

“I’m going to my place now,” Whizzer interrupts, obviously exasperated. _“Meet me there. And for fuck's sake be careful.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: And A Teeny Tiny Dog


	4. And a Teeny Tiny Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it doubt...adopt a dog?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the final chapter!
> 
> Wish me luck guys, I'm flying off to college in a day!

Marvin's never been inside an animal shelter before, so he's not sure what he should have been expecting. Maybe a dirty pound like the ones portrayed in all the kid movies he's seen with Jason? The ones with miserable looking creatures rotting in cages, staff with cruel faces who kick at the dogs, and a creepily lit back room where they drag the mutts who've been around too long.

He’s not sure if those really exist or if they are only an exaggeration, but this place stands in stark contrast to those establishments. This one's tiny; practically a hole in the wall, a family-run business owned by a bunch of animal lovers who refuse to give up on finding homes for the dogs. Their success stories are all hung in colorful posters on the walls, and even though they seem to be up to their armpits in slobbery tongues and wagging tails everyone's super cheerful and work hard to make sure every animal gets the best care possible. And Marvin can admire that, even if their endless smiles are a bit cheeky, the dogs yap loud enough to wake the goddamn dead, and Whizzer's been making some weird squealing noise in the back of his throat ever since they walked into the kennels.

Marvin stops short, causing the distracted man behind him to bump into his back, before turning to shoot him a curious glance. “What’s wrong with you? You sound like you swallowed a squeaky toy.”

Whizzer barely acknowledges his remark, a hand reaching out to squeeze Marvin's arm. “They're so fucking cute, Marv!” He full on coos, a strange and almost alien sound from Whizzer Brown. “There's too much adorable here, I don't know what to do with myself.”

“Well, you'd better figure it out quick, this was your idea,” he deadpans. It seemed so simple the night of The Incident(no matter how many times Whizzer's joked about it being a breakdown, he will not refer to it as such. He didn’t have a damn breakdown. He wasn't weak). Apparently, Whizzer could come up with some decent ideas when he wasn't bitching about how his “breakdown” was keeping him from getting laid or throwing a modified ice pack made of a bag of freezer-burned peas at his face.

“Just buy the kid a dog!” He said like it was the most obvious solution in the world, finally fed up with Marvin's yelling. “Man's best friend, and all that shit. He needs something besides a lonely game of chess to cope with his parents fighting all the time.” It was a little dramatic- they don't constantly fight, the household isn't that unstable- but there was some wisdom in the suggestion.

 _How hard can it be?_ He remembers thinking, and only now he's realizing how stupid that had been. Now, he's glancing around at a sea of furry faces leaping up against their cages, wondering just what he's gotten himself into. “I have no idea what I'm doing,” and it feels like an admission. He's not sure how much he can blame on a midlife crisis when he is still a ways away from middle age, but everything is spiraling out of control, like he's running in a hamster wheel of insanity. What is he doing? He's supposed to be on top of it, the strong pillar of the family, strong, in control. Instead, he's standing in the middle of a smelly dog kennel, ignoring the fact that he hates dogs because he's desperate. Because he's so far gone that he needs to bribe his own son to not despise him. He's a mess, he's drowning, and nothing, _nothing,_ is working out the way it should.

Whizzer seems to notice he's losing it, he tightens his grip on his arm, his nails just barely digging into his skin. It's enough to bring him back. “Of course you don't,” he agrees lightly, rolling his dark eyes. “You've probably never owned a pet in your entire life. In fact, I bet you're the one who started the family trend of playing chess against yourself.”

Marvin snorts indignantly, albeit he's still a little shaky. “Not true. I had fish growing up.” Whizzer stares at him for a moment before dissolving into snickers.

“Excuse me, sirs?”

The voice is unexpected in the den of howls, making his skin crawl with hyperawareness: they are standing too close to each other to be considered normal friends adopting a dog together, Whizzer is still holding onto his bicep, Marvin knows he has a habit of staring at the other man's lips, do normal friends adopt dogs together anyway? It would be so easy for someone, anyone to walk in and recognize him, to see them. They'd know, it's obvious; this is so fucking stupid. Marvin feels himself tense up, bile rising in his throat, shaking himself from Whizzer's grip, not listening to him talk to the shelter worker.

 _A shelter worker, she works here, Marvin,_ he tells himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. _She doesn't care. She won't tell Trina. She doesn't even know Trina._ He notices when he can breathe steadily again, that Whizzer and the girl had moved a few kennels down, crouched down in front of a cage holding a golden fluff ball.

“This is Thor,” the girl tells him, making sure her voice is carrying to reach Marvin as well. “He’s about eight months old, already vaccinated and fixed. He’s mixed, but he’s got a lovely coat on him, we gather he has some German shepherd and collie in there. He's a real sweetheart. A little rambunctious, but a sweetheart all the same.”

Whizzer pokes a finger into the kennel in greeting and the pup presses a wet black nose to the intruder and gnaws at it playfully. He starts laughing at that, his face doing that thing where his eye crinkle and his nose squishes the slightest bit, and Jesus Christ Marvin's getting it bad. “He’s perfect,” Whizzer tells her, before turning around to flash him with that stunning smile. “Marv, we've gotta get this one!”  
*  
Marvin adopts the dog. Of course he does. He wonders how many other things that smile can make him do.  
*  
Apparently, it can make him spend an ungodly amount of money at the pet store, that’s what. He doesn’t mean to fall for it, but the stakes are stacked against him from the start. It’s not like they can leave an eight-month-old pup alone on the sidewalk with its bright eyes and bushy tail, so Whizzer brings it in, cradling it like a baby. That lasts a good three minutes, then Thor is flopping around like a fish, demanding to be put down so he can explore the new territory, and once he’s prancing around the tiled floor he’s getting into everything within reach like Jason was at two.

The ethical thing to do is buy whatever object his new pet slobbers on. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Whizzer is sweet on the dog and Marvin is sweet on Whizzer, so Thor practically has the two of them wrapped around his little paw. All he has to do is sniff at a toy and the taller man is tossing it into the cart with a determined, “look at that cute little face, Marv! You can’t say no to it!” Marvin tries to say no just to be contrary,  but that damn smile...Whizzer’s puppy eyes are even stronger than the actual puppy’s so the toy stays.

It’s strange, he’s never thought Whizzer would be a dog person- one would assume he’d only think about the hair and slobber getting on his clothes. He’s obviously wrong.

“I was never allowed to have a dog growing up,” the younger says wistfully during the ride back to Marvin’s. Thor is draped across his lap lazily, lulled to sleep by the car’s hums and Whizzer’s soft petting. “Dad hated them; kept saying no regardless of how many times I begged for one. So I’d just pretend all the neighborhood strays were my own pets, and if they followed me home after I fed them it wasn’t my fault. He’d get so pissed.” Out of the corner of his eye, Marvin sees his face sour slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in distaste before turning to the window to signal the end of the conversation- if it can be called that, Marvin never had an opportunity to participate in it.

He fights a sigh, wishing he could know more about this man that had been pushed into his life. He wants to know everything; not just how his kisses taste or how he is in bed, but those softer, more private things about him. He wants to know how excited he gets over fancy camera bags, that he always drinks tea to calm his nerves, that he spent his childhood taking in orphaned dogs to spite his father. There is still so much to this man he’s quite frankly risking it all for, and God, he wants to stay around to learn it.

Still, it’s not like he’s complaining when Whizzer pushes him against the wall of the entranceway as soon as they enter Marvin’s empty house and drops to his knees.

*

Whizzer’s long gone by now, having left after sex with a tender kiss to the top of Thor’s head and nothing but a smirk for Marvin. He’s not bitter about that, who the hell cares?

He’s still trying, and failing, to keep the little dog entertained so he doesn’t wreck havoc on the entire house when the front door unlocks, Trina calling out a loud, “honey, we’re home!” before giggling a little to herself as if she thinks the joke is hilarious. Before he can stop him, Thor leaps up and scampers to the door in a flurry of short furry legs and high pitched barks, leaving Marvin to swear softly and chase after him. His socked feet nearly cause an accident with the pictures hanging on the wall, and he’s too late: the pup is already braced against Trina’s legs, tail wagging and friendly.

She looks absolutely murderous. “Marvin…” she begins-

“You guys got a puppy?” Jason slips in behind his mother with a big goofy grin on his face, backpack tossed unceremoniously to the corner as he flops down and calls the dog over. Thor comes willingly, licking excitedly at every inch of available skin and climbing onto his lap like he belongs there.

Marvin smiles triumphantly. “He likes you.” He forcefully has to ignore the ‘what the hell’ signals coming from his wife and focuses instead on Jason bonding with the little psycho dog. He feels- for the first time in a while- like he has finally done something right in his son’s eyes. He’s the one who indirectly put a smile on his face for once instead of only stormy eyes and deep frowns. “What do you think, kiddo?” He asks expectantly. “We got him for you.”

Trina’s mouth opens incredulously. “We?” She probably has more to say on the matter, but Jason unintentionally interrupts her by happily exclaiming, “He’s so cute! Thanks, Mom and Dad.”

Jesus, Jason hardly ever acts his age, he’s always so serious and cynical, but right now he’s sitting on the floor giving his new dog a belly rub and cooing over it. There’s a giant grin on his face and that childlike wonder in his eyes and for once he’s an average, content ten-year-old boy. Right now, that tight-knit family facade Marvin tries so hard to keep up seems a little more legitimate.

Trina bursts the bubble, because of course she does, stepping over to him to dig her nails into his shoulder as she takes off her heels. “When did we talk about this one, Marv?” She murmurs between clenched teeth.

 _Oh for fuck’s sake,_ He wants to shout. _It wasn’t your money, it wasn’t time you spent, and Jason is happy! Who cares if the kid has a pet, how does that affect you? I need this, I need him to not hate my guts because if I don’t have Jason, I don’t even know what I’m coming home to because then everything in this house will be a damn lie._

“Does he have a name?” Jason asks from the floor.

Marvin nods, “The shelter named him Thor.”

“Thor,” Trina repeats with a disapproving scoff. “How very Jewish.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “They already named him,” he says blandly. “He knows the name, wouldn’t it be a bit late to name him after a matzah ball?”

Her nails dig deeper into his shoulder, almost like a bird of prey skewering its dinner with its talons. “Wouldn’t it be a bit late to ask your wife before impulsively adopting a dog?” She counters with a hiss, and now the bird of prey is taking him to her nest and feeding him to her young, because Jason finally looks up, eyes analyzing the situation for a moment before widening in realization.

“Oh, I get it, Dad,” he says dryly. “You’re hoping that if you buy my forgiveness I’ll just forget about how crappy this family is. That’s pretty pathetic.”

Marvin blinks rapidly. _No no this isn’t what’s supposed to happen._ “Jason, no I-”

“Save it, Dad.” He scrambles to his feet so quickly Thor ends up falling out of his lap in a tumbled heap. “I don’t care.”

*

“This is all your fault.”

Marvin is painfully aware that he looks a little like a cartoon villain, yelling into his cell phone while sitting in a swirly office chair and idly petting the animal lounging on his lap. Which is probably fitting, given the role Jason has given him lately. Thor ended up on his lap because the little devil kept tugging on his pant leg and whining for attention, not because he was soft and fluffy.

 _“Like hell, this is my fault!”_ Whizzer shoots back hotly. _“Newsflash Marvin, this is your family. Not mine. All these stupid fucking issues you’re running into? They’re not my problems! I’m not responsible for this shit! Every single one of your problems is a result of you not having the balls to tell your own family that you’re gay. Whoop-dee-frickin’-do. What’s the worst that could happen, huh? Your wife leaves you? That’d be a damn shame, wouldn’t it, since you love her sooo much.”_

“Shut the fuck up!” Marvin commands, startling Thor for a second. He manages to settle the animal again with a few apologetic scratches and lowers his voice to a threatening growl. “You don’t know me, Whizzer Brown. You don’t know a fucking thing.”

The other man laughs darkly. _“Yeah, you’re right,”_ he agrees in a sardonic mutter. _“What would I know.”_

There’s a quick thought, that sounds annoyingly like Mendel, that tells him to apologize. That maybe Whizzer doesn’t know his entire story but he knows next to nothing about Whizzer’s. That their entire relationship hasn’t allowed that, but if he reaches out, extends the olive branch so to speak, maybe they could solve an argument in a healthy way. Marvin pushes that away with a quick scoff.

“Well...what are we doing with the dog?” He asks instead. “We can’t just bring him back.” It isn’t because the little mutt is growing on him or anything, it just isn’t right to send him back to the shelter, not after taking him in and making him a home. It’d be cruel.

 _“I’m glad we can agree on something,”_ Whizzer grumbles. _“I can try to sneak him into my place-”_

Marvin shakes his head decidedly. “No, there’s no way you’d get away with that, and your landlord’s already riding your ass trying to find an excuse to kick you out.”

There’s a soft hum on the other end. _“True.”_

“I’ll ask around I guess, try to find a family to take him,” he continues. “Until then I can-”

The door to the den suddenly flies open, causing him to jerk his knee into the table and shoot a dirty look at the traitorous Thor for not warning him. “Trina, what the hell?” His wife raises an eyebrow at him, hands planted firmly on her trim waist.

“I’ve been calling you to dinner for the past ten minutes,” she announces, eyes narrowing on the phone in his hand. “Who are you talking to, Marv?” The question is all faux curiosity and dripping accusations, raising Marvin’s hackles as he juts his chin up indignantly. “It’s just Whizzer, darling.”

 _“Just Whizzer?”_ Comes the sarcastic reply on the other end. _“That’s not what you were saying when I had your dick in my-”_

“-I haven’t heard from him in forever! Let me talk to him!”

“Why do you want to talk to him?” He asks, knowing full and well why; it’s more of a warning to get the man on the phone to shut up as he presses the device to speakerphone. There is no way in hell he’s ever allowing those two to have a private conversation.

“Hello, Whizzer!”

 _“Trina! How are you?"_  

“I’m doing wonderful,” she replies, sounding very much like she is, in fact, doing wonderful knowing her husband isn’t lying about who he’s on the phone with. She perches herself on the armrest of his chair, ignoring Thor as he sniffs her once before jumping to the ground in boredom. “It’s been too long.”

 _“Oh I know,”_ Whizzer agrees with an obvious pout in his voice. _“It’s the Valentine season. I’ve been drowning in engagement shoots for weeks. How was your holiday? Marvin behave himself?”_

The man in question rolls his eyes at that. _Whose bright idea was it to introduce them to each other? What the fuck?_ He bristles when Trina brings a hand up to play with his hair.

“Of course, he was delightful. I’m just disappointed his work called him away for the weekend the next day. He was gone before I had even woken up.”

 _“That’s a shame,”_ he says sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the “work” that had called him away from his ever-doting wife. _“I always tell Marvin he works too hard. He needs to spend more time with his family.”_

“Exactly!” Trina nods. “Speaking of family, why don’t you come over for dinner again sometime this week? It’ll save you from another bachelor meal.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marvin interrupts warningly. “He just said he’s busy-”

 _“Actually, I’d love to,”_ Whizzer cuts in. _“How does Thursday work for you?”_

*

The knock on the door is a firm three raps against the wood, and Marvin is darting for it before Trina can move from the kitchen, Thor slipping on the wood floor at his heels. He glances at the dog in exasperation before yanking the door open. “I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

Whizzer laughs at him, and God does Marvin want to kiss him right now, while he’s glowing in the light with rosy cheeks and rogue snowflakes littered in his hair. “It wasn’t just to get back at you. Your wife’s cooking was tempting in and of itself.” He winks and pushes his way inside, greeting Thor with a pat as he stepped out of his shoes.

Trina pokes her head in with a welcoming smile, still clad in her apron. “I thought I heard your voice. I’m so glad you could make it, Whizzer.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” he replies gratefully as he tosses his coat to Marvin and holds up a bottle in offering. “I brought some bubbly.”

“Aw, that’s perfect! Marv dear, could you set in down on the table? And get the places set? Where’s Jason? Jason! Sweetheart, come downstairs, Whizzer’s here.” The oven beeps and she’s running back into the kitchen, bidding their guest to make himself at home over her shoulder.

Marvin hangs up the coat and turns back to Whizzer, brushing his hand against his as he reached for the bottle. “Hey.”

The taller man smirks. “Hey yourself.” He bends over to press a hurried kiss to his mouth before turning around, scooping Thor into his arms, and walking into the living room.

Marvin is placing the wine on the table when Jason finally thumps down the stairs, pleasantly greeting the man on the sofa.

“Hi, Whizzer.”

“Jason! How’s it going?”

“Same as always. I see you’ve found Dad’s newest trick.”

Sighing a little to himself, Marvin turns to the kitchen to grab the plates, keeping his head down as he sets the table. He’s not sure what it is that Whizzer told his son, but when he glances up again Jason is sitting next to him with a thoughtful smile on his face as he stretches a hand out for Thor to lick. Trina walks in with a delicious smelling platter in hand, teasingly ordering the boys to wash their hands before coming to the table.

And Marvin smiles.

 _This,_ he thinks to himself. _This is what I want._

 _What do you mean, Marvin?_ He imagines Mendel asking. _What do you want exactly?_

 _I_ _want it all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to give me a tutorial on how to upload images/links, I'd be eternally grateful. Until then, y'all are welcome to head to my tumblr (@publishthewholeofthis) to check out Thor's dog inspiration :)

**Author's Note:**

> Coming up Next: Father with Children


End file.
